My Good Day
by HotCrossPigeon
Summary: JD's determined to have a Good Day, but when there's a flu outbreak and he and Dr Cox are left to deal with the torrent of patients, will his optimism manage to shine through? JD comfort, Dr Cox ranting, and fluff.


_Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was, has been, is, will be or will ever be mine in the past, present, future in any discovered and undiscovered dimensions._

_This is just a fluffy one-shot, starring mostly JD and Dr Cox. Dunno if it could be interpreted as a little slashy towards the end, but it's easily friendly/fatherly :)_

………

………

My Good Day

_JD's POV_

I walk into Sacred Heart knowing that today is going to be a good day. The robins are chirping, the sun is shining on a new layer of brilliant snow, and Turk and I spent a delightful morning making up a new game called 'throwing-waffles-at-passers-by-and-then-ducking-so-they-don't-catch-you'… you can guess what that entailed. I've never seen an old lady look so angry before, but then I suppose I've never seen a waffle explode like that before either.

"I hope she gets the goo out of her bobble hat." I murmur dreamily and hear an angry grunt in response. It takes all my skill not to let out a squeal but I manage it. I snap my eyes up to find Dr Cox standing in front of me with one of his trademark expressions that could melt the very smile off a teddy bear. Well, his unique brand of cynical pessimism won't get to me. No sir, not today. Today is a good day and nothing can sway my cheerfulness.

"Whatever it is Dr Cox, let me have it," I say with my biggest pearly white smile, "I can take it, because today is a _Good Day_." The last part is said with utmost grandeur, as if it's a title of a movie or book. However, whichever way I say it makes no difference because Dr Cox just flicks his nose and glowers at me.

I pretend that his stare hasn't wilted my spirit, but I think he and I both know otherwise. Damn it.

"We're understaffed Newbie, damn near whole place has got the flu."

My smile drops a little. Oh no. When it's flu season in a hospital it's never a happy occurrence. Most of the staff manage to get sick, or at least most of the staff manage to get away with saying they're sick, and the rest who didn't get the memo are stuck working in an understaffed hospital treating the barrage of people who really have got the flu.

Dr Cox's smile get's wider as mine shrinks, as if he's happy that he's managed to put a damper on my mood. Of course he's happy, I chide myself, he lives to torture me!

"That's right Jezebel, so the pair of us not only have extra shifts at this hellhole, but also _extra_ patients, _extra_ idiots trying to get out of work by showing up here with a box of tissues and a common cold, and _extra_ kids with snotty noses." He sure knows how to depress someone. "Which means our chances of catching the flu that started this whole mess, to make this whole excellent day just truly _perfection,_ is a given. Ding ding ding! We've won the lucky jackpot kiddo. Now judging by those big round puppy eyes of yours I'm guessing your '_Good Day_' just went out the window there, eh Francesca?"

I frown at him, determined not to give in, "Actually no." I say standing my ground, like an oak tree against the storm, like a rock before the tide.

Dr Cox has his eyebrow raised, "A rock Newbie?"

Did I say that bit out loud? Those are private thoughts! Stupid brain. Anyway, I can be a rock if I want to be, sure I'm a little skinny but I've been working out lately. I did twenty Rowdy lifts today already! Although I must admit I did it mainly for the smell he's been developing, he's taken on a nutty scent and I don't know why, but I kind of like it.

A sharp whistle breaks through my thoughts, "Would you focus here Annabelle," Dr Cox growls, "I don't _care_ about these nerdy 'work outs' of yours that contain just about as much exercise as some of my coma patients manage to do by twitching."

Damn it! I said it out loud again? Stupid brain. You betray my inner most feelings! At least I don't think the Rowdy part came out of my mouth, thank God, Dr Cox would have a field day with that one.

"And for God's sake Newbie wash that dead dog of yours will ya? I can smell him on you from here."

Damn it. "Yeah well," I say, cheeks a little red, "nothing can ruin the _Good Day_, Dr Cox. Not you, not the flu. Nothing!"

I snatch up my charts from the nurse's station but Carla stops me, putting her hand on my arm. "You've got to take more patients today Bambi; we need to cover the Doctors who can't make it in." Of course I've got to cover other people, I sigh, darn my wanting a dramatic exit from Dr Cox and his infectious grouchiness.

"Sure thing Carla," I say with the happiest smile I can muster, "for today is a _Good Day,_ and on good days I can handle more patients." She looks at me as if I may be coming down with something. I sure hope not, because if there's one thing that can ruin a _Good Day_ it's a bad case of the flu. I feel my forehead carefully. Hmm a little warm I guess, but I'll put that down to my anger at Dr Cox.

I take up the stack of patient files, which I think may just topple me over if I don't find somewhere to put them soon, and head off down the hall.

"Good luck Bambi!" I hear Carla call after me. I may need all the luck I can get.

………

After sending half of the waiting room home because they have nothing worse than a bad case of the sniffles, I make my way into the forbidden forest that is actual sick people. I can't even remember the last time we were this understaffed. I feel like it's just me and Dr Cox against the world; two lone superheroes against the onslaught of the flu season. I wonder if he'd warm to the idea… I'd be his sidekick of course. We'd have capes and masks and our very own theme song!

It does seem like we're the only one's who actually came into work today. I mean Elliot's in, but she's a little preoccupied with hiding in the supply closet on the second floor again… I think Dr Cox unleashed his anger out on her after I left. She kept muttering something about knowing her eyebrows weren't even.

Anyway, back to the sick people. I can tell Mr. Linda here is ill. He's got a fever blush, the shakes and he's sneezing and coughing something awful into a tissue he has wedged partly up his sleeve.

I stay at arm's length, but am still pretty cheerful, "Mr. Linda, good morning. Hey, I can totally relate to you having a girl's name, must be hard…"

Mr. Linda just sneezes in reply. Right into my face. No! Not the germs! Not on the _Good Day_! I make an elegant dive out of the way of the oncoming sneeze, mentally picturing myself, leaning all the way back as the sneeze shoots over my head, whizzing past and making ripples in the air like bullets do in _The Matrix_ movies. I spring back up and wipe my forehead. Phew. That was a close one.

Mr. Linda looks at me as if I've grown an extra head. I laugh nervously and back away a little, "You, Mr. Linda, have the flu," I say, picking up a can of disinfectant from the shelf and spraying it liberally around the room. Mr. Linda nods and coughs as the spray settles. "I prescribe lots of bed rest and fluids; if it gets any worse there are some meds you can pick up at the nurse's station." I rip of a prescription and hand it to him using the tips of my fingers. "There you go - okay then - bye bye now. Get well soon Mr. Linda."

I wouldn't normally be this much of a hypochondriac, but I know that if I catch the flu this will not be the _Good Day _I hoped it would be, and if this isn't a _Good Day_ then Dr. Cox will win. And I'm not going to let Dr Cox win this time; he deserves to see a smile once in a while.

………

After a morning full of jumping out of reach of coughs, sneezes, and irritably blown noses, I finally take a break. I walk up to the nurse's station and give Carla and Laverne my best 'happy' face. The one with the big eyes and dashing smile. They don't seem too impressed; in fact, Laverne just eyes me up and says "Q-tip you ain't fooling nobody."

But my eyes light up for real when I see the large basket of muffins on the counter. Muffin day - it's muffin day! I pick up a muffin and hold it to my nose, inhaling the sweet aroma like I've been deprived of baked goods for years. Mmm… This could probably even rival Rowdy's new smell.

I take up my daydreaming pose, imagining Rowdy squaring off against a giant muffin in a boxing ring. "Weighing 40 pounds in the red corner is Rowdy 'dead dog' Turk-Dorian!" The crowd goes wild, and there are a few stuffed animals hooting in the back. "Aaaand in the blue corner, weighing a grand total of 130 pounds, not including the chocolate chips, is McMuffin the Annihilator!" The Giant muffin sports a pair of large red boxing gloves and eyes up Rowdy menacingly. The bells dings starting the first round and I find myself not wanting to watch.

"Poor Rowdy doesn't stand a chance." I murmur, coming back to myself.

Dr Cox waltzes up behind me, throws down his files with an impatient sigh and looks about as frustrated as he can get. Well, as frustrated as he can get, without him actually snapping off one of the intern's heads, and using it as a bowling ball to knock over any unsuspecting patients that may get in his way.

I feel like saying 'Why so glum chum?', like I would if it were Turk acting all mopey, but it's Dr Cox, and I don't feel like getting decapitated today. Instead I decide to lighten the mood a little with the muffins, because muffins make even the gloomiest of things seem happy. I turn to grin at him, gesturing to the basket.

"See Dr Cox, it _is_ a Good Day. It's _muffin_ day!" I try to prove my point by taking an extra large bite out of a blueberry muffin, but it doesn't have the desired effect. Instead it gets caught in my throat, and I splutter and cough, "G-good da-ay!" I choke, my eyes watering.

Dr Cox doesn't even acknowledge that with a reply and just rolls his eyes, snatching up a muffin and stalking away. He's just a big old grumpy pants.

I try to swallow the remainder of the muffin lodged in my oesophagus, and manage it even though my throat has suddenly got incredibly dry and scratchy.

"Bambi, you sure you're not coming down with something?"

I shake my head, "Of course not, I'm invincible." But my voice sounds kind of hoarse even to my own ears. Still, I scarper off before Carla can mother me into admitting the truth.

………

_Dr Cox's POV_

I swallow the muffin whole, trying nawt to think of Newbie. Stupid kid's wheedling his way into my brain though what with his trying desperately to lighten up the world with his pasted on smile. I mean, _someone's_ got to shove him back into reality, and if that someone is me, then by God I'm up for the challenge of breaking his girly spirit.

The world's been doomed from the very dawn of existence, and no amount of daydreaming, inane grinning, or prancing around is going to fix that. It's about time Newbie came to terms with the fact that life's not all candy and unicorns, and it's also about time that he stopped bugging the hell out of me.

"Dr Cox!"

Speak of the Devil. I squint over my shoulder and there's Newbie, trying to catch up with me, wanting some kind of help with one of his dying patients no doubt.

It's the usual drill: I rant and give him a new life lesson and he pouts and then adores the very ground I walk on. Yadda yadda. This time though I just can't be bothered. The day's been crappier than some of the bed pans in the orthopaedic ward and I'm not in the mood for chirpy Newbie and his optimism.

"Dr Cox! Wait up. I need some help with Mr. Francis, I can't figure out why his heart's palpitating -"

I stop walking and Newbie doesn't notice in time and collides solidly with my back.

"Owwie." I hear in that familiar nasally girl voice.

When I whip around to face him, Florence looks a little confused, rubbing his head that's probably been bruised by the rock hard muscles he just walked into, and - is he blushing?

"Newbie, for God's sake," I grunt, "Mr. Francis is a hundred years old. By legal rights he should have died a long long _long_ time ago. Ever think that maybe his heart's just not up to it anymore?"

He gives me that kicked puppy impression and I feel the unaccustomed feeling of guilt in my stomach. "But Dr Cox, his granddaughter -"

I interrupt him with a growl, "Ah come on, gimme a break here kid. Go give your time to a more deserving patient would ya?" I snatch the file from his hands. "He's my problem now."

It's then that I actually look at Newbie properly. I notice that that isn't a blush colouring his cheeks, but the flush of a fever. The kid was sick; most probably with the demon strain of influenza flying about.

"Oh Harriet," I say with a grin, "you've got the flu."

He blinks owlishly at me. "No," he says with a breathy laugh, "no I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"For God's sake Rosie, I can both see and _feel_ the fever radiating off you in these big waves that shout 'flu, flu, I've managed to catch the flu and my Good Day has been turned into the Crap Day I should have realised it was in the very beginning instead of trying to make it all better with my fake smiles and girly skipping!'" I make the appropriate actions to illustrate his lack of manliness, and Newbie pouts at me.

"Why do you have to put everything down?" He asks me, voice scratchy. He's definitely ill and the feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach bubbles for some reason.

"Why do _you_ make it your soul goal in life to make me want to strangle the very life out of you?" I snap.

I expect him to stutter and make some stupid come back as he usually does, like 'Yeah well… your face' or something equally as feeble, but this time he surprises me.

"Why are you incapable of letting anyone else be happy if you're not?" He takes a minute to cough into his hand, and wipe his nose hygienically on the sleeve of his scrubs top. Then he carries on in his mini-rant as if he hasn't just proved my diagnosis of his having the flu correct, "You spend your whole life… trying to make people as miserable as you are… well I'm sorry if I try and make things seem a little brighter so we can forget about some of the tragedies we have to see in this place."

His own mini-rant, I almost feel proud. "Newbie." I say gently. The kid's sick and even if he is sticking up to me he probably won't make it through another one of my tirades without keeling over. "Shut the hell up." Okay, not so gentle then Perry. I mentally shrug, at least I tried with the whole comforting thing. "Go get your ass into one of the On Call rooms and I'll see about getting you a lift home."

He blinks at me, surprised. "I'm not -"

"Shut _up_. You're a doctor, you shouldn't be the one to infect these people you idiot. On call room. _Now_." He practically hightails it out of here. Well, he stops to lean on the wall a bit, but my 'dangerous' voice definitely did the trick.

Now all I've got to do is find someone to get the damn kid home before the last remaining faking-it-to-get-out-of-work patients actually become sick. Newbie's sure as hell not going on that death-trap of a scooter of his. Dare I say it but I'd rather have a sick Newbie than a dead Newbie.

Damn kid's made me soft. I think I'll go terrify at an intern.

………

So it turns out, everyone's too damn busy to give Delilah a lift. Carla's swamped with people asking for tissues and moaning about their congested nasal canals, even though most of the patients have either been seen by Newbie or myself already and are just looking for a little sympathy. Newbie's black girlfriend is doing some poor shmuck's surgery, and God knows where Barbie's scarpered off to, but I have the strong suspicion I might find her snivelling in one of the supply closets after my particularly degrading rant at her this morning. In any case she wouldn't be in shape to take Newbie home. So it's up to me.

I find the nearest intern I can and dump my patients on him. "You kill _them_, I kill _you_." I growl at him.

He just sort of gulps fearfully and as I leave him standing there, ashen faced and ready to faint, I hear him say "Dear God, someone please help me!"

Percival Cox, you've still got it.

I find Newbie, as expected, in the On Call room. He's curled up on one of the thin excuses for mattresses they get away with calling beds, looking for all the world as if he's a sick four year old. He sure could give Jack a run for his money.

I whistle sharply at him, and he groggily opens his eyes. "Wha…? Dr Cox?" We're gonna have to get him something for that sore throat he's got, kid can barely get a word out. Wait, what the hell am I saying?

"Get up Janice. Now. I'm taking you home."

Did his eyes actually light up at that? "_You're_ taking me?" he asks incredulously. I groan and haul him to his feet not caring in the slightest as he wobbles a little.

"Uh bup bup!" I push him in front of me, "I invoke the no-talking rule."

Unfortunately for me I don't invoke the no-coughing rule and Newbie decides it's a good idea to start hacking up his lungs in the hallway. He's starting to draw attention. I bristle and sling his arm around my shoulders so we can make it to the car without Bobbo finding out we're legging it out of there.

Mother of God, did he just squeeze me? "This is not, no-_hawt_, a hug Newbie. Get your mitts off me." He stops gripping me so hard with the arm over my shoulder, but doesn't let go.

We make it to my car and I have half the mind to lock Newbie in the boot so I don't have to hear his damned coughing and gasping anymore. He looks at me pleadingly, "Can I… can I sit in the front… please?"

He is looking a little pale, and it would be easier to push him out if he falls asleep in the front, rather than getting out and walking all the way round to open the door if he's stuck in the back. I may never get rid of him.

I sigh frustratedly and bundle him into the front passenger seat. I swear he's actually smiling through those hacking coughs of his.

I get in. "Buckle up there Newbie," I say. He does so obediently, I whack on the heater, and then we're outta there.

………

He does fall asleep. After rattling off the directions to his apartment between coughs, his head lolls onto the window and he's out. Well, at least he's shut up for a while.

We pull up outside his building and I turn off the engine. "This is your stop Helen." I say loudly. Newbie just snuggles harder into the corner where the chair meets the door. "Newbie." I flick his ear where it pokes out beneath the densely styled foliage he calls his hair. "Newbie!"

He opens his eyes _finally,_ and jerks back as he's met with my snarling face. "Aah!" he yells like the pre-teen girl that he is. His eyes are red as if he's been asleep for hours, instead of a few stolen minutes pressed up against the freezing glass and metal of the car window.

"We're here Newbie, and if you don't want me push your ass out myself you'd better start shifting. Out out _out_."

He fumbles with the door for a full minute before I get fed up, walk around and yank it open for him. The snow's melted into precariously icy puddles and so naturally Newbie steps out of the car and straight into one. I roll my eyes and he actually _beckons_ me for my shoulder to lean on as if I'm a Goddamn crutch or something. I grit my teeth and let it slide, grabbing his arm and supporting him as we walk to his apartment. The sooner the kid's home, the sooner I can get back and have the rest of my shift to myself without having to pick up after him.

But of course, nothing's that simple. The snow that had, up until now, been flaking softly from the sky like so much of that nurse from pediatrics' dandruff, was now bucketing down. Great. That was going to be so-ho much fun to drive through. Not only that but Newbie's started shivering and coughing, and as I'm preparing to leave him and head for the safety of my car, he looks despairingly at the elevator.

"It's out of order…" he says, hugging his arms to his chest.

I growl, tug him over to me, and we start up the stairs.

After a few stumbling steps it be it becomes apparent that Newbie can barely stay upright let alone scale a couple of flight of stairs. I manage to drag him up a flight before he half-collapses against me and I grunt angrily trying to reposition him so we don't both end up at the bottom in a bloody heap.

"Newbie," I frown at what I'm about to do, "so help me, if you tell anyone about this I will skin you alive and make a chair out of your girly ass."

He doesn't answer and I pick him up, his head lolling sleepily into my shoulder, "Mm nice," he murmurs into my coat, and I choose to ignore that particular comment or so help me I think I just might toss him down the two dozen steps I just hauled him up.

We make it to the right floor and I try to remember which door is his, finally picking one that looks the most familiar.

"Key Susan." I grunt at him. He has it grasped in his fingers and it doesn't take much for me to pry it loose and unlock the door. I carry him in and set him on the couch, not knowing which bedroom is his and not really caring. Especially seeing as that dead dog of his is standing guard in the kitchen, and actually may have creeped me out a little.

I turn to go but Newbie looks so damn pale that I… I physically can't do it. I mean he couldn't make it up the stairs without falling on me. I tell myself that I want to get out of that shift at the hospital and so go off in search of a blanket to smother Newbie with. Nawt to keep him warm, but actually to smother him with, maybe if he's dead he won't be able to tell anyone about me carrying him.

When I return I plonk the comforter over Newbie's snoozing form and sit beside him, lifting my snowy trainers up to rest on the coffee table. May as well sit and wait the storm out. From the racket the snow's making as it slams against the window, I'd say I was making a wise decision to stay indoors. I turn the television on and the hockey game I find rouses Newbie from his stupor.

"Dr Cox?" He slurs, sitting up a little. He looks a little disoriented and I wonder if he remembers our elegant trip up the stairs. I sure as hell hope not.

"Go back to sleep. I'm just gonna sit here 'til the snow stops, got that Phyllis?"

"Kay," he murmurs and then smiles and tucks his feet under the blanket, leaning closer. A few minutes go by and the soft flurry of snow outside and the dull murmur of old hockey players chatting about the game they weren't playing is almost lulling me to sleep.

I wrap an arm around the back of the sofa, only Newbie gets in the way and it almost looks as if I'm comforting him. He's asleep anyway, he doesn't notice. I don't know why I don't move my arm back, but with him looking so ill…

Then I feel a small breathy laugh against where Newbie's head is resting on me and I stiffen, pulling my arm back as if it'd never been there in the first place. Which, for all intents and purposes, it hadn't.

"What's so funny there Jasmine?" I question, crossing my legs on the table and watching with some satisfaction as the snow drips messily onto the carpet.

Newbie turns his head and fixes me with a tired dopey grin, "You carried me…" he says in his exhausted, scratchy voice, "and now you're hugging me…" Now that bit I am _not_ doing, not in the slightest. But he looked so content I decided not to shatter his dream world no matter how messed up it was. "I told you… it would be a _Good Day_." He says.

I watch as his eyes begin to droop and he softly snores into my shoulder. I hitch up the blanket around him. "Yeah kid." I say, wrapping my arm back around the sofa, not around Newbie of course, just the sofa. "You did."

………

………

_Please review :)_


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